As King Jarius's child, Aiden was a prince in name only, for he had never truly experienced the privileges that such a title should afford.
At the tender age of five, he had been led by the hand through the castle's corridors by Grand Magus Mumbleton, brought before the throne where his father and Queen Helena sat in their finery. He was the king's mistake, a living reminder of Jarius's promiscuous past with a woman from the finest establishment in the city at the time.
That day had been particularly cruel, especially for the pregnant Queen Helena. Upon seeing the bastard child, she could not bear the sight of him, this walking testament to her husband's infidelity. She, who was known throughout all of Dragonhold as the most beautiful woman in all nine kingdoms, now faced the bitter truth that one woman would never be enough for any man.
She rose from her throne seat that was placed right beside the King's, and when the king tried to follow after her, she stopped him by motioning her hand right in-front of the King. Making it clear that she didn't want to followed.
Ironically, it had been Helena's idea to bring the boy into the palace. She reasoned that keeping him close and hidden within the place would reduce and prevent the whispers and gossip amongst the people of the city, especially in the taverns and marketplaces. Even most Noble families did not know of this for the longest of times
However now that she was faced before this child, she found herself unable to endure it and fled the throne room, fighting back tears until she was safely away from prying eyes.
...
Aiden slowly picked himself up from the floor where his father had left him writhing in pain, and thankfully, Lysandra kept to her words as one of the palace physicians appeared at his chamber door.
Grandal was an elderly man, above the mid-age who had served the crown for decades, even before Jarius became King. He wore the traditional long green robes, decorated with gold trims, that all the palace healers wore.
"Please, sit here, my prince," Grandal said with a kind voice, while rushing to pick up one of the chairs that had been knocked over from the earlier situation with the King. "Princess Lysandra told me what happened," he said.
Aiden managed to lower himself onto the seat with a groaning sound as his body still felt the pain from being dealt with in such manner
"Sorry, sorry," Grandal murmured while helping the prince to settle in more comfortably.
"What did you do to anger your father this much?" the healer asked, with his face looking genuinely concerned. Greenish magical energy began to glow from his outstretched palms, and within moments, Aiden felt this cool relief on his body as the healing magic took hold.
Part of his ribs that were cracked, healed up, and the throbbing pain gradually subsided. Soon he was breathing normally again, and the only sweat left on him was from relief and not agony.
"Thank you, Grandal," Aiden said, with his voice full of both anger and sadness, "but that man is not my father."
Though Grandal only asked the question out of concern, Aiden's response made the old healer look worried. Grandal decide not to push any further and instead looked around at the disordered room.
Broken crystal fragments from the destroyed chandelier were littered the floor, there were visible cracks across the walls, and pewter plates and cups lay scattered about the room.
"This place is a mess," Grandal said with a heavy sigh. "I'll have a servant come to clean this up." He then turned back to Aiden and asked, "Is there anything else you might need, my prince?"
Aiden simply shook his head, and in truth, he didn't need anything here anymore. A dangerous thought was already taking root in his mind, and if he acted upon it, whether this room was repaired would matter little, for he would not be sleeping in it again.
The healer bowed slightly and spoke with quiet formality. "I'll return soon, my prince." And with that, he departed, leaving Aiden alone with his churning thoughts.
The moment Grandal's footsteps faded down the corridor, Aiden snatched up his black coat from where it had been tossed aside during a time of what felt like the grandest way to lose his virginity. He pulled it over his lean but muscular frame, not bothering with a shirt beneath—such details no longer mattered.
He took one final look around his chambers, this room that had served as a constant reminder of his unwanted status, as it was positioned far from the main royal quarters, practically making him a neighbor to the palace servants and maids rather than his supposed family.
Of course, the maid servants never complained, why would they?. Though Aiden lacked Helena's golden hair and the distinctive white locks of the Crowley bloodline, he had certainly inherited his father's striking looks. This alone gave the serving girls ample reason to lean in closer, lower their necklines a bit more and flash their curves whenever they brought him meals or tended to his needs.
More than once, a maid had "accidentally" dropped a towel or cup, bending over slowly, and deliberately, offering a generous view of cleavage or the curve of her figure, and hoping to catch the young prince's wandering eye.
Drawing a deep breath, Aiden steeled his resolve. He strode from his chambers and made his way through the dimly lit corridors toward the palace's main entrance. His destination was the royal stables, where the finest horses in all of Dragonhold were kept.
The stableman was going about his regular daily duties, distributing hay with a well-worn pitchfork to each of the noble steeds that didn't notice the prince's arrival until Aiden was already among the stalls.
"My prince..." the man began, but Aiden offered no acknowledgment as he passed by. He had that look on his face. The same expression he wore whenever he was about to do something impulsive and rash, and the same look he'd had when he'd stormed away from the academy earlier that day and head towards the pleasure house.
Aiden moved directly to his horse's stall, gently taking the animal by its bridle and leading it out into the main area of the stable. In one fluid motion, he mounted the beast while the stableman watched with growing concern. "My prince, where are you headed?" the man called out.
But Aiden gave no answer. Instead, he pressed his legs against the horse's flanks, urging it into a trot before shouting "Hya!"—the command that sent his mount galloping at full speed from the stables, leaving the confused stableman staring after him.
The horse's hooves thundered along the pathway leading to the gates that separated the royal district from the common quarters. There was no need for Aiden to look back at the castle where no one had ever truly wanted him.
...
When one looked from a distance, it was hard to deny how perfectly structured the palace was. It was also known as Wyvern's Keep, an architectural masterpiece, with elaborate stonework, buttresses, and pinnacles. It had several soaring spires and towers.
The Crowley family banners rolled down from every spire, and the warm light cast upon the keep, from the skies, gave the entire structure this magnificent radiance.
However, Aiding was riding away from it forever. His path took him through the bustling commercial areas, workshops and trading posts. Then through the markets where different kinds of goods from across the known world changed hands between merchants and customers alike.
Finally, he reached the main gates built between massive reinforced walls. The soldiers manning the gates spotted the prince approaching at high speeds and without waiting for orders, pushed open the heavy gates.
Aiden's horse galloped through without slowing down, carrying him out into the vast expanse of land.
...
The familiar hills of Dragonhold faded behind Aiden as his horse carried him deeper into a deserted land with ancient stone paths. Most of which were cracked and forgotten by time.
The grass under the horse's hooves were dry and yellow, and each time it walked through them, they would make crunching sounds. The trees to the sides either had scorch marks or were outrightly blackened, with their twisted branches that stuck up looking like creepy fingers
His horse got spooked, though it tried to fight against every instinct to flee. Small bones were littered around the edges of the pathway, and whether it belonged to an animal or a human, it was hard to tell.
The path led upwards through jagged mountain passes, where one would see massive scrapings of giant clawed fingers against certain rocks and on the walls of both sides.
Ancient warning markers appeared with increasing frequency. There were skulls mounted on iron spikes, while stone tablets bore dire warnings in multiple languages. Though the words written on them varied, the message was always the same: "Turn back."
At last, the passage led into a huge cavern entrance, and his horse finally began to falter. It was no longer galloping and its legs trembled as it took slow steps. They were approaching something that every living creature was meant to flee from.
Then Aiden dropped from its back and gently patted his horse's neck one final time. The animal had done its job, carrying him to this place of certain death. "Go," he whispered before patting it harder on it back to get it to move away quickly.
The horse did not wasted no time either as it turned and trotted back down back along the path it came. Soon after, the sound its hooves made, faded away.
Aiden now stood alone, facing the huge opening of the dark cave. The air felt heavy and it was hard to breathe, for this was Thyrak's Lair, and he had come to meet his end.